Sometimes You Gotta Be Bad
by It's Just Apple Pie
Summary: Temperance is beating herself up because she thinks that you can't be truly Good without being truly Bad- What does Angela have to say How did Bren and Ange meet What if it was in a sexual situation? FemSlash I love BB, but Ange/Bren stories are just hot!


Booth told me that you have to be bad to be good. And, it makes sense. To know God you must know the Devil. Or in my case, to know Science, you must know God. To know love you must know lust, or in my case, vice versa.

To know wrong from right, you must be in the wrong.

I'm not bad- I've never been bad.

So, I guess I'm not good, by his logic.

And maybe that's his way of moving on, redeeming him self, justifying his past.

But it makes sense to me.

So, I'm not good, and I'm not… bad.

What am I?

Nothing? Okay?

I'm pointless.

"Honey, stop fighting it- its fate!" Angela practically shouted, and I almost jumped off my couch, almost squealing- but holding it back. "Bren! You weren't listening to me." Angela pouted, but it was soon replaced with a smirk- "You were thinking about him, weren't you?" She asked. When I didn't answer a knowing look greeted me warmly. Then she moved on, in the way that Angela does, but I knew that the conversation wasn't over. "Anyway, I was asking you why you two fight it? There's obviously a lot of tension. _Sexual_ tension."

I internally groan, for Angela and I have been arguing about our partnership for as long as we have been working together. "I don't have any feelings for him, Ange." I answer automatically.

She waves a finger in my face, poking my nose, "Yes you do. You guys are bad at hiding it, you know. And that's why I don't understand. Why torture yourselves? Don't you want that happy ending, you know, the perfect, everlasting one?"

"We're not bad at hiding, because we aren't."

"You have to be bad at something, Bren. It's just not fair if you're _perfect._" Angela whispers. It catches me off guard, and my eyes flicker to her nervously, unsure.

She's turning away me before I can see her eyes. Her cheeks are a rosy red, and she looks flushed, worn out, suddenly.

"Angela, I'm not perfect. I'm quite socially inept. I don't like to talk about my past, and I'm almost unable to work… when-when there is a foster child on my examination table." I fought back irrational tears; I fought down the burning in my chest.

There was a foster child on my examination table, right now. His name was Cameron Sheppard. He was between eight and ten years old. His body was found in a local park. He was left out there, _alone_, decomposing for six to eight weeks.

"No, Sweetie, that's not a real character flaw. It's just adorable awkwardness. People can't dislike you for it." Angela looked back at her friend, smiling slightly, and shaking her head.

"Then what's my character flaw, as you've put it- seeing the truth? Seeing the lies in all love?" Brennan asked, thinking she knew what was coming she asked, "Compartmentalizing too much? Not being with Booth?"

"No, no, Brennan, you're character flaw is not being able to trust, and you're not seeing the truth when you say a bunch of chemical reactions to describe love."

"Then what am I doing?" I asked because I was curious to hear what she thought would convince me of love's honesty and purity. To convince me that it's worth all the pain, that it's worth all the doubt, worth filling out of place, worth vulnerability, worth death, worth living without them.

"You're denying that you're scared. You're denying you're sexual and emotional feelings towards Booth. You're"-

"I'm a bad person." I cut her off.

"W-what? Bren, you spend all your time finding the truth for people who really need it. You give them closure and you give them honest to God _love_. You're a very good, caring and compassionate person." I could hear the awe in her voice, the respect, and the _love_. Though it was completely irrational, I could hear her compassion, her _love_, for me. It went deeper then platonic feelings, and for once, for a moment, I could hear it.

"No, Angela, I've never been bad. I've never stolen, I've never intentionally broken the law, I've never"-

"Temperance." Angela's voice was husky, and a smile- no, not smirk- in fact it was _the_ smile, which was gracing her lips. It brought me back to where and when we had met. It brought me back to the morning after.

Her smile was one that was honestly pure and just happy. There was no deceiving, no cockiness, and no pity, in her smile, just _bliss, joys_.

"What?" I ask, feeling as I smile too, because it's just so _contagious_. And the way she's looking at me, staring really, doesn't make me feel uncomfortable, but rather _sexy_.

"I think you know, Bren." She answers, suddenly not looking at me anymore. Why did she feel shy talking about a previous, long-ago, almost forgotten sexual encounter?

"That wasn't _bad_." My eyes widen at her implication. "That was _the best_ I've ever had." I whisper against my will, it just slipped out, not able to look at _her_ anymore.

"You were _very_ naughty." Angela's eyes were dilated now, she was staring me down, I could feel it, and so I looked up at her voice, her husky voice. "Remember?" She asked me, her eyes shining.

"How could I forget?" I challenge, but I honestly don't know how I could forget _that_.

We are leaning towards each other, inching towards each other. When Angela pulls away, I can't help but sign in frustration. In a slight disappointment from unmet expectations of what was about to happen.

"See, Bren? You can be bad. Not to mention that you punch people in the face. Not to mention that you lied to the FBI. Not to mention that shot several people. I think you've been pretty bad."

I smirked, "You've been too." Then I grabbed her thigh to keep her from squirming, as I lean toward her, our noses almost touching.

I lick my lips, and pull closer towards her, but she turns her head, stopping me.

Instead my lips graze her ear, "You've been _worse _then me." I whisper, feeling her breath against my left cheek.

She moans from the contact, but from her reluctance to meet my lips, I pull away.

There is only word on her lips, once she's done coming up with an excuse _not_ to, but it was a pretty good argument, at least, considering she only said a word.

"Booth."

I shrug.

"You love him, Temperance." At the use of my first name, I cringe with a sick pleasure, remembering six years ago, when we met. She is serious though, so I look away, knowing very well that she would notice my arousal if I look her in the eyes.

"I don't believe in love." I remind her, rolling my eyes.

"You believe in him, and he believes in love." She responds, softly tracing her fingers along mine.

"I'm not going to compromise my beliefs for his." I keep fighting her, knowing that she will win. She has completely control over me right now. "I don't believe in love, and I never will."

"Temperance," Her voice isn't husky anymore, it's dry, and the hurt expression on her face makes me hate this for a moment.

Makes me hate myself.

Then a tear drips down her cheek, dragging along slowly. "I know you don't." She reminds me.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, my regrets drowning my voice in emotion that makes it hard to breath, never mind talk.

"No. It- it was my fault. I pushed you too far. I thought you…" She didn't have to finish her sentence for me to know what she was talking about.

"I hate what I did to you, Ange." I continue to apologize, "I'm sorry that you were under the impression that I loved you."

My words come out harsh, and she gasps.

I've basically told her that I don't love her, and that I never have. I just told her that I used her, for _sex_. I told her that I thought nothing about our relationship, that _us_ was worthless to me.

But it _does_ hold meaning for me.

"That- that came out wrong- What I meant was, I'm sorry you thought I was capable of love."

"But you are Bren, you just… you just don't love _me_."

"Ange…"

"You've been lying about Booth and to Booth, for _my_ sake." Angela looked into my eyes, and dared me to challenge her. But the tears that were _streaming_ down her face, made me feel even worse, and I didn't dare.

What right did I have?

I already told her, misled her, to believe all the wrong things.

"Angela, I'm so sorry, but the truth is, I suck at trusting people. I don't know how to love someone. I'm too vain, I'm too self-involved, to care about someone else too much. I had to care for my self, growing up. It's not you're fault it's _mine_."

"You should tell Booth you love him, Bren." She still wasn't looking at me. I brought my hand to her chin, forcing her to see the honesty and the helplessness in my eyes.

"I don't love him."

With that I touch my lips, so softly, to hers, and feel the shock, that I missed for all these years.

She's the only woman I've ever been with.

She's the only human who knows all of my past, and accepts me.

She's the only human who knows _all_ of _me_, not just the bits and pieces left behind.

I close my eyes, and feel her fingers trail up to the sides of my face.

It's better then I have ever imagined.

"I know." She says, smiling against my lips.


End file.
